The Perfect Man
by Kisshulover1
Summary: Tino has always wanted a job as a romance writer. When he gets advice from an unlikely source, he decides to pursue his dream of creating a Homosexual Romance article for APH publications titled 'The Perfect Man'. The only problem? Finding the perfect man! Rated M for language and Romance.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a new story of mine and I hope you like it! It includes romantic fluff, some smut, and best of all...MOOMINS! (Oh damn it just had to be done... Plus I'm going to Moomin land next summer so I really wanted to do this!) So please enjoy and please review! OR ELSE THE DOLPHINS WILL EAT MEH! Thank you to **MalinChan**, **yotzie** and **Ruusu** for being my Swedish/Finnish translators!**

** (THOUGH MOOMINS WILL NOT BE THE FOCUS OF THE STORY! sorry)**

***If you don't know what a Moomin is, it is a hippo-like-white-troll that was created by Finnish-Swedish author Tove Jansson in comics and cartoons. The Moomins are beloved Finnish cartoon characters and are damn cute and so sweet! Check 'em out online! **

**I'm sorry if I ruin anyone's childhood with this story ^^"**

…...

Tino's eyes widened as his small and round twelve year old violet eyes took in the scene displayed before him with such towering joyfulness. His mouth opened with a gaping gasp before a smile fitted snugly on his lips. Towering with such sheer wonderment and glorious triumph sat the tall and cylinder-like blue house of the Moomins.* The dull brown roof that was perfectly edged, the many odd windows painted in snow white, and the spiraling stair case that delighted every person who walked along it with their hands held to the railing. Even the little pond with a small bridge outside fascinated Tino, and he sharply tugged on his mother and fathers hands to go closer to the house that was already amassed with a bundle of eager and laughing children.

The house was purely magnificent, just as it looked like in the cartoons and the many comic books that Tino had collected over the years. He ran up the small bridge that was connected with thick braids of rope and small planks of wood. He began to tighten his small and slightly chubby hands on the rope and swing gleefully, joining the many other hyper children that had climbed up the bridge and tried to peer in through the small and slightly dusty windows.

Tino, feeling a bit frustrated that the rickety bridge was the only way to get a close look at the house without getting shoved into a wall by other kids, pulled his face downward to the slightly greenish water that was caressed by reeds of dark colored plants and fake rocks. He pouted down at his reflection and sighed, wanting to get a closer look inside the famous and beloved house. He raised up his head and looked around and saw that some other children had gone down the bridge and were scattered across the rock laden road that led to the lip of the trail to the house.

Some of the kids had wandered off and were shoved up against a small rectangular porch, their greedy hands gripping and pushing against the younger and shorter kids who were trying to get a good look at one of the only available windows that displayed the treasures and mysteries of the Troll's house. Tino pouted. It looked like a complete death trap for the small and skinny little twelve year old boy. Sighing, Tino looked back longingly towards the window nearest him, the white panes calling out to him like the gates of heaven, the reeds scattered around near it like fluffy green mist and clouds. Tino made a distressed noise in the back of his throat. Oh he just had to see into that house, he just had to!

So, gripping the scratchy and coarse body of the rope, Tino slowly turned his head behind himself, biting his bottom lip. His wide and violet eyes sharply scanned around for any sign of someones eyes watching what he was about to do. All the kids were distracted by the crowded window to the right, and his parents, bless their hearts, were fiddling with a cheap plastic camera, taking amateur photos of the theme park for Tino's 'baby book'. Tino cringed and made a face that screamed 'yuck.'

Looking back behind him once more, just to make sure that no one was watching, he lightly and stealthily slid his feet over the coarse rope of the stout bridge, his blue tennis shoes balancing with quivering steps onto the lean and sturdy rope. After settling himself the connecting lines of the wooden structure Tino let go of the rope and stood to up triumphantly in the hot and buzzing electric air. He took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, before squaring his shoulders and licking his dry lips. He shut his eyes and rose to his full height of 4'7, his arms held in front of his face like superman ready to take flight. Soon, he _would _take flight, he thought with new found courage.

Tino closed his eyes shut tight, took one more breath of the sweet Finnish summer air, and jumped.

…..

Berwald had just taken what must have been his four-hundredth photo today with a bunch of small little kids clinging to his awkward fuzzy arms. The young Swedish boy of fourteen sighed miserably as he was once again, forced on his knees to take a picture with a wide eyed little girl, her pig tails bouncing in the hot summer air, one of her teeth missing to give her a goofy grin. Berwald made an attempt to smile through the big and heavy white cloth covered head, but it was no use. It was eighty degrees outside, and a boiling ninety-nine degrees inside this stupid big and round costume. He sighed with quiet exhaustion as he picked up another wriggling kid in his arms, the little boy snatching at his pipe and throwing it up in the air. Berwald exhaled with frustration.

He had taken this summer job because his best friend Nikolas had told him that it had good pay, short hours, and free benefits such as the leftover food that didn't sell each day at the park in the fast food stalls. It sounded like a young teenagers dream!

The only part that Nikolas forgot to mention to Berwald was that he had to wear a big heavy snow white costume complete with top hat and pipe. Also, he had to walk around the park, in said costume, while taking pictures with hyper kids and stressed out parents. The job also required him to speak Finnish in his broken dialect when his native language was Swedish. Berwald grumbled out bitterly.

Honestly, the only reason Berwald got stuck with the damn costume was because he was so tall already at his age that he could wear it and carry it around with little problem at all. His gangly and gigantic Swedish body be damned.

Berwald sighed once again in the hot Finnish air that sent waves of discomfort around his burning body, making him sweat even more in the tee-shirt and shorts that he changed into every day he was at work. The job was rough, but at the end of the day he could safely say he kind of enjoyed it. When the good kids, the sweet and kind kids came up to him with wide and fascinated eyes, their smiles melting into exuberant joy, well, it made Berwald happy.

Normally, whenever he smiled at a kid, it made them cry or piss their pants. But under the safety of the white and billowy head, Berwald could glare all he wanted—as was natural to him—and not make cute little faces tear up or wail in fright. It wasn't that Berwald hated kids, on the contrary, the young flaxen haired boy couldn't wait to raise a family with a cute little wife and a spunky little boy.

Berwald smacked his tongue over his dry lips, the humidity in the air getting the better of him. He subconsciously waved and clutched at his protruding tummy every time a family passed by, making his body ache more when he had to move around with the damn weight of the costume boring down on his arms. Sure he was strong, but this was ridiculous! After today he would have to ask for a raise in pay.

He turned his head back to face the gaudy blue house that stood camouflaged against the cloudless sky. Berwald sighed for what must have been the fifteenth time today before his eyes cast downward.

Berwald was about to turn his gaze away from the house and back to his currant pile of work, a throng of screaming and giggling kids, when his sea green eyes caught a flash of light blue and violet. Berwald turned back his body with difficulty to face the front of the house, his eyes widening at what he saw.

A small kid, dressed in a turquoise colored jacket was balancing on the scraggly ropes of the little bridge that bisected to the Moomin house. The giant Swedish kids eyes widened with fright before his breath caught in his throat. Berwald, stumbling with his big and heavy Trollish feet, waddled over to the little boy who was now standing up and was looking as if he was about to jump into the cement floored pond. Berwald ground his teeth and urged his steps to move faster, trying to catch the kid before it was too late!

…..

Tino spread his fingers out wide. His feet left the secure comfort of the rope within a mere split second, eyes still shut tight, clenching his skin. The little Finnish boy raised up his fingers and began fluttering them wildly into the air, trying to feel for the pane of the window sill until, all to quickly he felt gravity take its nasty toll on the situation. Tino shrieked loudly with terror and he quickly opened his eyes, preparing for the splash of the cold water against his legs.

But...It never came, instead he was lifted up and over the railing by strong and soft plush arms. Tino, rubbing the damn tears from his eyes with the heel of his palm, turned around to see who his savior was. His eyes widened with surprise and happiness.

It was Moominpappa, clad in his black top hat with the red band, his pipe in his hilariously huge mouth, his white gloved hands gripping Tino around the shoulders protectively.* Tino blinked a few times before he crashed his body into the costumed person, rubbing his face into his big white belly. The Moomin dressed person halted stiffly, patting the boy awkwardly on the back.

"Oh thank you! Kiitos! You saved me Moominpappa!"* Tino cheered happily, smashing his rosey cheeks into the characters arms.

"Hnnn..." The voice from the giant and simple white head rumbled. Tino giggled happily before realizing something.

"Oh! I'm so sorry I jumped! Really I am! I'm not usually a clumsy person, or a daredevil, its just, I really wanted to see inside the house!" Tino pouted, pushing away from the huge costumed character. The white troll just knelt down on his knees and patted Tino on the head gently.

"'S ok'y... just don't do it aga'n..." Berwald mumbled in his heavily accented speech. The cute little boy giggled brightly before nodding, promising with truthful breath that he would never do it again.

Berwald nodded and stood back up again, his knees bending with a crack. Ah yes. It was definitely time to ask for a raise. But before Berwald had much time to revel on the subject, he felt small and cool hands grip his gloved hands. Berwald looked down to see that the kid that looked not but a few years younger than him, clutch his hand tightly, a goofy grin on his face. Berwald blushed, trying to blame the red color painting his cheeks on the damn summer heart. This little boy was just too cute!

Berwald suddenly stopped himself. No! This kid looked to be still in middle school, there was no way Berwald could think him cute! The confused and jumpy Swede shook his head in tight circles before looking back at the little violet eyed boy.

"Moominpappa, I have a question..." The sweet voice of the boy asked, his face a bit more giddy than it should be for a boy of his age.

Berwald looked down and grunted, trying to stop himself from giving the boy a small hug once more. He was just too cute!

The boy, taking the grunt as an 'okay', quickly stood on his tip toes and clutched at Berwald's shoulder, mumbling something into the fake and plastic ears that topped his costume.

"Can I be anything that I want to be?" Tino mumbled quietly to the oversized cartoon character. Berwald blinked a few times behind his glasses, sweat beading down his face. Taken aback at what this cute and little kid had just asked, Berwald simply nodded and brought the kid into a tight and snugly hug. The little boy giggled as he was smashed to the white and fluffy belly of the troll.

"Yes... Ya' can be anyth'n' ya w'nt ta' be..." Berwald mumbled outward. He wasn't specifically trained for these kind of situations, but he hoped his answer would be enough for the little boy.

Apparently it was.

As soon as the words were spoken, the boys face erupted into a brilliant smile, his violet eyes sparkling like the lilac and morning glories that dotted the parks landscape.

"Thank you Moominpappa." Tino smiled brightly towards the huge and gentle looking troll. Berwald mumbled something again that was muffled by the costume and shifted on his huge clothed feet. Tino giggled and turned back to the park benches and the crowds of people. Spotting his parents in the throws of the huge masses of people, Tino turned back to the Troll and tugged on his furry hand. Berwald blinked before lowering his head down to the kids eye level. The little boy lightly kissed Berwald's clothed cheek before skipping away to his parents, thanking the Swede once again as he disappeared into the crowd of people, leaving Berwald to stand their, gloved hand against his cheek, face burning red, but not from the heat.

…...

Tino groaned as he hit his head on the keyboard to his computer. The charcoal black keys stung his forehead and made him wince. He sighed with frustration as he peeled his face off the jet black keys, his blonde hair falling around in tuffs against his pale face. He growled once more before rubbing his short clipped nails under his eyes, trying to wipe away the dark circles underneath his violet orbs.

"What's wrong Finny? Writers block?"

Tino looked up from his glaring computer screen to swivel his chair around to the door opening to his small light blue painted office.

In the doorway stood his coworker, a Hungarian woman named Elizabeta, her face in a concerned pout. A metal spoon was dangling from her plump lipsticked mouth, her neat and cherry red nails lightly holding a carton of strawberry yogurt. She licked her spoon clean before resting her hips against the small door frame. Tino sighed out, his breath frustrated and heated.

"I wish..." Tino grumbled out. He pushed his feet against the floor and skidded over to the door frame, his small fingers pointing to the screen of his light blue lap top. The glare from the screen seemed to mock him with ridicule. Ti no sighed out bitterly.

"Read." He commanded dishearteningly. Elizabeta quirked up her eyebrow but scooted closer, her chocolate brown hair falling in a curtain against her face. She blinked against the brightness of the screen before scanning her gleaming emerald eyes across the blue and beige of the screen. Reading the small beginning of an article text she pulled her head back with disgust, her face angry and glaring.

"What?" She shouted out into the small cozy powdered blue office room, the small picture frames encased with photos of Tino's white fluffy dog shaking on the wall from the Hungarians voice. Tino sighed. "I know...What am I going to do?" Tino tapped his hands against the keys and dragged his fingers across his desk with worry.

"I've just sent my first beginnings of my new insightful article to a publishing agency and they already hated it! Look at the review they wrote!" Tino wailed out, dragging his hands across his face. He stuck his finger into the collar of his white shirt and pulled at it, popping a few buttons. He felt his face flush in anger and shame at how his latest writing piece had been torn to shreds by critics. It wasn't fair. He had worked his cute little Finnish ass off to get that rough draft of the first few pages of his article in on time for the publishing agency, and already they had written in big, bold, fat crimson red that he needed to '_work on improving the realistic theme of the text and expectations_.' Tino growled.

How was he supposed to make it more realistic anyway? It was a damn article about what makes the perfect man in today's society! A man whose sweet, gentle, shy, sexy, mysterious and handsome! Tino couldn't make it realistic if he even tried! First, he was writing this article mostly for straight females who want the perfect man and who actually bother to read his articles in the back of magazines and collections of texts. He didn't really have any idea what real women wanted in a man, simply because he wasn't a girl; therefore he had no real knowledge of the sexual tastes of girls. He couldn't very well write about situations that dealt with breasts and menstrual cycles. Therefore he could not make real enough guidelines for his article since he had no idea the inner workings of women, except for his friend Elizabeta—but Tino was sure she was not a woman at all but some alien sent to wreck havoc on Tino's work life—. Secondly and finally; Tino was pretty sure there were no real men out there who are 'sweet, gentle, shy' _and_ 'sexy, mysterious and handsome'. He had dealt with enough horrible and sex-craved high school boyfriends to know that the fairy tales really didn't happen. There really was no such thing as the perfect man, and if there was, well, Tino hadn't met him yet!

Elizabeta sighed out through her teeth. She scooted the distraught Finn away from the small little desk and squatted down before it, her heels digging into the egg shell white of the carpet. Her green gem colored eyes scanned the article once again before she clicked her tongue.

"Its not that bad..." She mumbled under her breath, shifting her mascara perfected gaze to her friend and coworker. Tino shot her a nasty glare, his violet eyes deadly, face red from frustration.

"_Not that bad?_ It says my theme is unrealistic! That it just sounds like an uneducated, horribly researched, poorly portrayed romance novel!" Tino frowned out, the first patch of tears sliding down his face.

Elizabeta, going into worried mother mode, hugged the agitated Finn close to her bosom, letting the blonde twenty-two year old author cry into her velvety blouse. She sighed out heatedly, combing her long nails into Tino's dove winged colored hair, making soothing humming noises as the little man sniffed and cried his eyes out.

"There, There... It'll be okay, we'll get you back on track, don't worry..." The Hungarian woman cooed into Tino's ears, holding the man in her arms as if he was a little babe. The Finnish boy took one more deep breath into her chocolate brown hair before he pulled back.

"I...I don't want to 'be back on track'... I should just quit! I'm a twenty-two year old homosexual _virgin_ writing _heterosexual_ love articles with _no _sexual experience whatsoever! I should just buy a reindeer farm in Helsinki and sell reindeer all my life, at least It'd be a better use of my talents than this!" Tino sobbed out, anger stinging his tears like acid. The Hungarian woman pouted gravely and tugged at Tino's arms.

"Don't you start talking like that! You're stronger than this Tino! For Gods sakes pull yourself together! You've been at APH publications since how long?" Elizabeta asked, her voice hot and frustrated, she forced Tino to look at her, her brow furrowed in emotion.

"F..four years..." Tino answered somewhat hotly. Elizabeta, hands on her hips nodded with satisfactory.

"Exactly. Even during college you've slaved and worked your fingers to the bone to create wonderful literary works of art, and now, when a tiny speed bump throws itself in your way, you're just going to throw it all away? You've done a great job all those years, why stop now? People love your articles, Tino!" Elizabeta coaxed the man to lean back in the swivel chair, trying to relax him, but the Finn wouldn't have it.

"Yes! People like my articles, my short, one paged, double spaced articles! I want more, Elizabeta! I thought writing that romanticism 'perfect guy' article would get me on the map, open doors for me! I thought people would actually like what I wrote down on paper! But they don't... I don't have enough realistic knowledge of relationships to write a damn romance piece, let alone a heterosexual one..." Tino grumbled out angrily, wrapping his arms childishly against his chest.

Elizabeta stamped her foot on the plush snow white carpet defiantly. She yanked up Tino's arms and tugged him out of the room, his mouth giving a winded gasp as her slender fingers dug into his wrist. His feet were kicked up into the ground and his body slung out of the swivel chair.

"Where—where are we going?" Tino asked with nervous confusion, his slim wrists almost being tugged out from his arm socket. He made an attempt to look at Elizabeta's face, but her curtain of luscious coffee colored hair whiplash against his pale cheeks as the determined woman dragged him off down the hallway that housed the small cubby like offices similar to Tino's.

Tino was about to asked again, this time with a bit more agitation when he was suddenly pushed into an office door labeled with a golden placard that read 'Ivan Braginski; APH Office Manager and Director'. Tino took a big breath of air before his feet stumble and waddled into the room against his will, Elizabeta at his back, blocking his escape.

"Elizabeta, don't make me do this..." Tino growled with anxiety, he looked back at the serious face of the Hungarian, her eyes solid and weighty, hands on either side of Tino, clamped shut on the smooth walls parallel to the door. She narrowed her eyes to thin and venomous slits.

"Do it or I will send photo copies of you at the Christmas party last year to everyone in the building."

Tino's eyes widened before he swallowed thickly with defeat. He took out a long drawn out sigh before clenching his fingers into a fist at his sides. He glared with betrayal at the now smirking brunette before he puffed out his chest and turned the glass door knob with hesitant movements. The door clicked with a sickening sound before it gave weigh and pushed Tino forward, making the Finn stumble out into the room.

Tino had to blink from the sheer brightness of color that attacked his vision as he made his way into the lavishly roomy office room. Yellow; yellow with smudges of black in the middle that painstakingly blurred his vision. Tino had to blink a few times before he could make out the bold shapes of the flowers. Sunflowers. His bosses favorite. Tino sighed out with a shudder of tenseness.

"Ah... My little Finnish snow bird, how kind of you to pay me a visit?" The sweet honeyed voice of Ivan seeped and swallowed into Tino's ears, making the Finn involuntarily shudder. Tino took a hesitant, wobbly step towards the mans thick wooden slab of a desk, a few ink wells, a sleek and dark black lap top, and a huge stack of papers sitting patiently against the body of the desk.

Seated behind the monster of cherry oak wood, sat Ivan Braginski, Ivan the Terrible. At least that's what everyone called him in the office. Tino had known first hand that the name fit well. Ivan was sweet and childishly silly on the outside, but deep inside, he was dark and cruel, inhumane and barbaric.

Tino knew first hand how senselessly horrible the man could be, from assigning mounds of useless paper work to an intern, to actually making someone lose their job over something as petty as knocking over one of his vases of precious sunflowers. The guy was a freak! But, he signed Tino's pay check at the end of the day so the Finn had to lock away his fear and play nice, at least until someone gets enough courage to stand up to the Russian bastard.

The problem was, Ivan had power. Loads of it. Tino couldn't even count on one hand just how many private businesses and corporations the middle child of the Braginski family owned. Along with his two half sisters, the man was worth a good solid thirty million dollars alone.

He had bought the APH industry on a whim in Tino's second year of working there. After the first few months on the job under Ivan's hand, Tino had thought about packing up and leaving to go to some other publications office, but Ivan, along with being arrogant, paid very well for his novelists and journalists. Tino sighed. As long as working here paid the bills, he would brave the violet cloudy eyes of the Russian and stay put for as long as he could. Being around Ivan was like being with a horde of bees, yes they gave you sweet and delectable honey, but get to close and they'll sting you without a moments hesitation. Tino sighed out tiredly.

"Hello Mr. Braginski..." Tino mumbled out, sitting in an offered chair that was painstakingly close to the front of Ivan's desk. Great.

"Please, my dear little Snow Bird, call me Ivan, da...?" He purred out sweetly. Tino cringed.

"Yes Mr.—Ivan..." Tino corrected himself, placing his hands on his lap, his feet wrenched closer together. He attempted with great success to make himself as small and compacted into that damn chair as he could, feeling with disturbance every dull black eye of every sunflower bore into him. _Elizabeta is going to pay for this... _He growled.

"Well my little snow bird, what seems to be the reason for your pleasant visit?" Ivan cooed out, his thin and nimble fingers finding the thick and silky petal of one of the yellow flowers, the pads of his digits lightly caressing it. Tino swallowed harshly.

"I...Um, well, I came to talk to you about my job as a journalist..." Tino whispered out, not meeting the silver blondes eyes. The Russian's mouth split into a sweet and gentle grin. Tino frowned.

"Ah yes! I simply loved your article on the Prussian man who got his head stuck in a bird cage at the zoo, wonderfully humorous!" He exclaimed out with a clap of his hands, his fingers brushing against his long and woolen beige scarf. Another thing Tino disliked greatly about the man; his damned scarf. He would wear it rain or shine, during snow or heat. It always drove everyone in the office nuts. There was a rumor going around the building that underneath the scarf was a whole bunch of scaly green skin that Ivan was born with when he was young. Of course that was taking it a bit too far. Either way, it creeped Tino out and he did his best to steer his vision away from the accessory, choosing instead to stare at the man's nose. It was a big nose, but it distinguished him and made him look more manly, handsome. Yes, Ivan was handsome, very. But it was not the sort of good looks that one would risk getting into a relationship with, you might end up dead in a ditch if you did.

"Ah, thank you very much Mr.—Ivan. But that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to try my talents somewhere else other than writing news and report articles." Tino spoke slowly, hesitantly, as if he was convincing a big and hulking bear to not eat him alive. Well, the situation seemed to fit.

Ivan leaned back in his chair, his hands folding delicately over his hulking body, his smile splitting into a deep set grin, as wide as a valley.

"Ah... Are you not content with your work load?" Ivan murmured, flicking his hands over the huge stakes of paperwork that stood proudly and viciously on his desk. Tino's eyes widened and he waved his shaking hands in front of the desk.

"Oh no! It's not that! It's just, well... I wanted to maybe try working in the romance department, writing helpful insightful articles..." Tino paused after a moment before he whispered out very meekly, "please, Ivan?"

At the gentle tone of the Finn, Ivan blinked slowly, like a cat deciding whether to eat a helpless little canary or play with its meal first. Ivan suddenly smiled brightly, his eyes closing pleasingly against his face. He chose play.

"What did you have in mind...?" The Russian asked, sliding his hands over the smooth top of the desk, his fingers mindful of the scattered papers that seemed to thicken on his desk. Tino swallowed thickly.

"Well, as you know, I recently sent in my manuscript for the first several pages of my new attempt at writing a romance article to the head of publications, explaining in simple and easy text what makes the perfect man..." Tino wriggled a bit in his chair, his body already feeling cramped.

Ivan nodded, his head lulling forward and back in mild understanding, a smile smashing over his face ruthlessly. Tino suddenly blushed under that gaze. He leaned further against the silky black leather of his chair, his hair framing his face handsomely.

"What was their verdict on your work?" Ivan asked with a paused purr to his voice.

Tino fidgeted in his seat, clasping his hands against his lap, his breathing quickening in his throat.

"They didn't exactly cry with joy when they read it..." Tino murmured out sourly, not meeting the big Russian man in the eye. Ivan frowned dully.

"What am I to do about that, my little snow bird?" he asked quietly, his eyes dying to a vapid amethyst color. Tino flinched.

"Nothing! I mean, I only wanted your permission to seek a new style of romance articles." Tino breathed out quickly, his eyes panicked and a bit wide. Ivan fitted a small mile on his lips, replacing the dull and tarnished frown.

"Go on..." he prompted the Finn.

Tino cleared his throat and nodded. "I want to write a homosexual romance article; for what makes the ideal man for male homosexual readers and female heterosexual readers alike. I think it would be good to broaden our—your—companies worldwide strength and modernization. It would be good for appealing to the Gay community as well as grabbing media attention to our publications." Tino said with forced courage, his teeth strained and gnashed against each other, waiting for the verdict.

Ivan sighed out with exhaustion before he sat bolt upright in his leather chair, his hands slamming down on the desk top.

Tino jumped with fright.

"Alright my little snow bird, I will give you this one chance, da? Write an exceptionally eye catching homosexually themed article for APH publications within the year. Make it as realistic and juicy as you can, talk to the other romance novelists and journalists for pointers if you need to, and do your best to make it a best seller, do you understand? I want the first few pages of it tomorrow, da?" Ivan said seriously, his eyes thick and solid, swimming with sober composure.

"Really? I'm free to write it? Just like that?" Tino asked out with shock. Ivan smiled sweetly, his eyes sliding shut.

"Of course. I am not so hard to deal with, da? I am not a monster like some think..." The Russian's voice slithered over Tino's ears, making him shiver slightly.

"No, of course not, Ivan." He murmured underneath his breath. The Russian grinned sweetly, surely.

"Well then, what are you doing in here, da? Go write your article..." he whispered softly, motioning to the door with his paw-like hands. Tino blinked rabidly before sitting up quickly and stumbling over to the exit of the spacious and flower decorated office.

"Thank you, Ivan, thank you so much for this! You won't regret it!" Tino called out behind him as he exited the room, his voice flustered and his eyes thankful and wide.

Ivan sighed out tiredly before he whirled his chair backwards, his hands clasped in a fist on his chest.

"Lets hope I don't regret it my little snow bird..." he sighed out before closing his eyes and breathing in the silent perfume of the yellow black eyed flowers.

…..

Tino hugged the Hungarian around the waist tightly, his face set in the wildest of grins, his eyes shining bright.

"Oh thank you Elizabeta! Thank you!" The little Finn hugged her till her face grew almost purple. The woman made a small chuckle before she wiggled out of the surprisingly strong grip of the little man.

"Haha, okay okay, yes, kneel down before me! Kneel down before my amazing talents!" She joked, plopping down on the low set corner table that decorated Tino's claustrophobic and snugly office. Tino grinned and bent low to the ground, kissing the woman's hands playfully, a giggle in his voice.

"So, what did he say?" She asked with bated breath, helping Tino up and off the floor. The little Finn grinned and puffed out his chest proudly.

"He gave me the right of way. As long as I bring in the money and make it 'exceptionally eye catching' and a 'best seller, da? Da? Da?', I'm in! By the end of this articles publication, you'll be looking at a famous writer!" Tino boasted, leaning against the small and cramped desk that sat patiently in the corner of the room.

"What's this I hear about a, like, famous writer?" A sassy voice from the door ran through the room with giggles. Tino turned his head around to see his other best friend leaning against the door frame, his straight shoulder length blonde hair waving slightly, his bright and mischievous green eyes shining down at Tino. The Polish man was clad in a light pink dress shirt that had bright bedazzled buttons on the front of the cloth, tight bright white pants fitted down his legs to spill over gleaming pink colored heels. The man grinned and trotted into the room, grabbing Tino into a tight hug.

Tino smiled back at his friend as his body was smashed into the sequined pink matching dress shirt, his golden hair waving against Tino's face.

Then, quickly, with a knowing smile, the man pulled away from the Finn and squealed, clapping his hands delightfully.

"I heard the news! That's like, totally great that Ivan the terrible is letting you write a romance article!" The Polish man squealed.

Tino smiled sheepishly before giggling along with the blonde man who was jumping up and down in bright and audacious pink high heels.

Tino smiled and led the more feminine looking man over to the small swivel chair, sitting him down on the comfortable furniture. The Polish man grinned wildly and crossed his legs with dainty charm, his pale pink spiked heels delicately swishing up and down.

"I still can't believe he's letting me write the article! Oh I have to start on it right away! He wants the first few pages of text and introduction by tomorrow!" Tino said, his voice in a sudden shock. Tino ran his hands over his hair, smoothing the baby fine locks to his head, a glimmer in his eye. Oh this was just great! He finally got a break, he was given the go-to to do what he wanted with his life. He sighed happily before looking back to his lap top. Even the review could do nothing to damper his mood. He had made it. He would be able to pursue his joy, his passion!

Tino smiled to himself. This was it. This was the big time!

Feliks giggled high in his throat, his heels suddenly digging into the white carpet.

"Then like, what are you doing here? The lunch break just started and you're, like, still standing in the middle of your office! Go out and find the perfect man!" Feliks urged the Finn with a bright smile, his lips upturning to show the glint of his glossy peach lipstick. The Polish man nudged Tino with his perfectly sleek nails, making Tino stumbled towards the door frame, catching it with his slender hands.

Feliks dug around with his hands till he picked up a slim and zippered light blue 'Moomin' bag, the inklings of Moominpappa, Moominmamma, and MoominTroll all sitting in a patch of flowers, looking absolutely adorable.* Yes, Tino's obsessions with the Moomins had yet to fade, but it was a healthy obsession! Absolutely healthy! Nothing stalker-ish about his love and adoration for the beloved Finnish cartoon characters.

Tino laughed softly before nodding back at his flamboyant friend, pressing his hands to his messenger bag as the Polish man handed it to him. The bag was stuffed with binders full of paper, pens and pencils, and most importantly—his notes. He would to start right away in interviewing the perfect man, seeing if such a person really existed. Hopefully the perfect man did exist—the Finn's career depended on it.

He ran his hands over the door frames compacted wood and pressed his lips into a thin smile, his eyes shiny over his two friends whose eyes were gleaming like trapped stars. He gave them one last confident smile before he pushed his way out into the hallway, his walk having an added spring in his step.

Tino made his way down the cool and air-conditioned building, passing by several of his friends that stopped in their work or their eating and chatting to congratulate the little Finn on his job well done at 'taming Ivan the Terrible'.

Tino, after waving off all the many compliments with a smile, came to stop by the opened door of an office, the soft sounds of computer keys being tapped and plucked emitting sedately from the room.

The little Finn peeked his head into the blue and jungle green walled office, his body leaning against the slightly opened door. He scanned his eyes along the small picture framed walls before his eyes caught the sight of nicely groomed blonde hair glinting brightly from the drawn up shades of the window.

"Eduard!" Tino chirped happily into the cool air of the small office that resembled the Finn's own. The man who was just a few seconds ago typing madly on his lap top, quickly looked up with glass framed eyes. His parted mouth quickly upturned into a bright and pleased smile, his hands pushing against his desk to twirl him around in his chair to face the Finnish man.

Tino grinned and walked into the room, stopping just a few feet from the Estonian man. Eduard adjusted his glasses before, with a soft brush of breath, spoke.

"I heard about your accomplishment with Ivan. How did you do it?" Eduard breathed out, his green-blue eyes never leaving Tino's face. The Finn grinned and waved his hands in the air.

"It was nothing, I just laid on the good 'Finnish charm' and he was practically eating out of the palm of my hand!" Tino said happily and easily, shifting his shoulders to support the messenger bag nearer to his hip.

Eduard let a light chuckle stray from his lips, his fingers slipping against his nose to tweak the glasses back on his face.

"You mean you shit yourself, hyperventilated, and prayed to God that he wouldn't pull out his metal pipe and hit you over the head with it...?" Eduard spoke with a slight slip of mocking that was peeking up from his usually meek character.

Tino sighed and twitched his lips into a cheeky smile. "Yeah, pretty much." He giggled.

"But! That's not why I'm here!" The Finn immediately said with sudden realization of some sort. Eduard crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"Really? You didn't come over here to simply gloat about your accomplishment?" He smirked with good nature. Tino pouted sourly before running his hands over the rough cloth of his bag, his fingers clutching around the metal buckles and zippers.

"Noooo," Tino drawled out, his smile suddenly back in place, "I wanted to ask you if you wanted to grab a snack with me, seeing how its our lunch break and yet you are still on your computer..." Tino paused to look over the Estonian's shoulders. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "...playing video games. Really Eduard? You have a serious addiction to everything that beeps and flashes lights and includes radioactive super heroes. As your friend I think I should get you some help for your gaming problem." Tino chuckled with laughter, his hands on his hips. The Estonian frowned, his glasses sliding down his nose.

"_My_ addiction? Tino, you're a professional article writer of twenty-two who still reads Moomin comics, drinks out of Moomin novelty mugs, uses Moomin patterned toilet paper _and_ worships them like they're a gift from the divine!" Eduard huffed out teasingly.

Tino took a step back, his mouth agape as if someone had just plunged a three foot needle into his heart and wrenched it around the wound. Tino glared at Eduard, his fingers balled into fists.

"How dare you!" He growled out with fake disdain, his eyes betraying his hate clouded voice. Eduard shook his head and laughed, uncrossing his arms. He leaned against his swivel chair and smiled up at the glaring Finn.

"Calm down, clam down! I'm kidding!" Eduard held his hands out in front of his chest in an attempt at surrender. The Finnish male quirked his brows downward, his growling pout transforming into a moody smile.

"So, does that mean you'll go grab a bite with me?" Tino asked, his violet eyes displaying a watery gleam of hope. Eduard craned his neck backward, twitching his nose with weariness.

"It depends. Where did you have in mind?" Eduard asked carefully, holding up his finger to push up his glasses, the tips of the black metal frames edging against his bowl-like hair cut.

Tino looked up innocently at his Estonian friend, his eyes pleading like a small puppy wanting to be rescued from the pound.

"Oh no. Oh no! I am _not_ going to Moominland to stuff my face with inedible Finnish fast food and Slurpee's! Nuh-uh!" Eduard groaned out, raking his short nailed fingers over his face.

Tino squished up his face and furrowed his brows.

"Please? I've haven't had a chance to go back to the amusement park in suuuuuch a long time! Plus, the theme park added a new addition to the gift shop! They have Moomin lunch boxes now, Eduard! M-o-o-m-i-n l-u-n-c-h b-o-x-e-s!" Tino pleaded, his voice drowning in urgency. The Finn shook the Estonian's shoulders as he spelled out the words, his voice never faltering, not even for a second. Eduard, his head becoming dizzy from the rough shakes of the Finn's hands, slapped Tin's grip away lightly, taking a big and well deserved breath.

"No! If you want to go waste your hard earned money on novelty items, that's none of my business! But _I_ am going to finish my computer game and eat my lunch in peace!" The Estonian stated firmly, not in the least bit affected by his Finnish friend slowly deflating, his smile dimming.

Tino wiped the crocodile tears from his eyes before slumping back his shoulders. He sniffed sadly and turned his head, walking back out of the small office. The Finn was a few steps into the hallway when he turned to stick his head back into the office doorway.

Eduard didn't look up from his rapid mouse clicking, his eyes staring straight at the screen as a man wielding a sword was beating the crap out of a six headed monster, puss and green slime sliding off the monsters scaly skin.

Tino pouted grimly.

"I hope that monster bites your face off..." Tino whispered hauntingly from the door way.

Eduard sighed before allowing a small smile to flit over his lips.

"Have fun at Moominland~!" Eduard called out from behind his shoulder, his voice sickeningly sweet. Tino grumbled but smiled back at the Estonian before exiting the cramped office. _Oh, I'll have fun alright!_ The Finn vowed as he made his way down he stairs to the parking lot.

…...

**Hey guys! Thanks for reading the first chapter of my new story! I hope you liked it! (Sorry for people who like Moomins! I feel like I just ruined their childhood, I swear I didn't mean to! It was all the Dolphins fault!) But! For those that did like it, I LIVE OFF OF REVIEWS! FEED MEH!**

**Authors Notes:**

-Towering with such sheer wonderment and glorious triumph sat the tall and cylinder-like blue house of the Moomins.***-"Moomins" are hippo-like-white-trolls that were created by Finnish-Swedish author Tove Jansson in comics and cartoons. The Moomins are beloved Finnish cartoon characters and they live in a bright blue cylinder house.**

-It was Moominpappa, clad in his black top hat with the red band, his pipe in his hilariously huge mouth, his white gloved hands gripping Tino around the shoulders protectively.*-**"Moominspappa'" is one of the characters in The Moomins. He is the husband of Moominmamma and the father of MoominTroll. He wears a black and red top hat, loves the sea, and writes memoirs of his life and days spent in Moominland. **

-"Oh thank you! Kiitos! You saved me Moominpappa!"***- "Kiitos" means "Thank you" in Finnish. **

-"Feliks dug around with his hands till he picked up a slim and zippered light blue 'Moomin' bag, the inklings of Moominpappa, Moominmamma, and MoominTroll all sitting in a patch of flowers, looking absolutly adorable.*"**-"'Moominmamma' is Moominpappa's wife and mother to MoominTroll. She has a very even temper and wears a red and white striped apron-dress. MoominTroll is one of the main characters in the show and makes best friends with a lot of the other charaters, including some of the antagonists. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for Reviewing everyone! It means a lot to me! Thank you to **MalinChan**, **yotzie** and **Ruusu** for being my Swedish/Finnish translators! Much love to you guys! Now, here is the second chapter to 'The Perfect Man'. Please enjoy and please, REVIEW! IT KEEPS THE RABID DOLPHINS AWAY!**

…...

Tino sighed with satisfaction as he rubbed his belly. So far he had eaten a whole helping of the deliciously skewered barbequed kebab, the meat cooked to perfection with a smoky brown color. He had also gulped down two large cups of fizzing cola, the bubbles popping and tickling his tummy with joy. Eduard didn't know what he was talking about! Tino couldn't find a more perfect place to fill his belly and sight see.

Yet ever since work had been piling up in the office, the eager and wide eyed Finn had only been able to attend the magical and wonderful amusement park for a few stray Saturdays out of every month. Of course that might seem like a few too _many_ visits for a _normal_ person, but when it came to the beloved Finnish Moomins, Tino was hardly normal.

Tino guessed Eduard had spoken the truth, Tino was somewhat obsessed with the fictional characters. Of course he did have good reason to be! He never told this to anyone, but the main reason that he had even pursued his writing career was because of a very special visit to the park awhile back when he was around twelve years old. He clearly remembered that the day had started off with disaster. Due to his clumsy and often risky adventures, Tino had, against all common sense, climbed up to the small bridge ropes that were nestled near the Moomin houses window. Tino was young, stupid, and naive. Plus he was just dying to see what was in the little house!

Anyway, long story short, Tino had jumped, planned to grab at the windows ledge, became gravity's bottom bitch instead, and got rescued by a fictional cartoon character! It was quite a day for the young Finn. But what made it even better was that he and Moominpappa got to have a little chat. Of course now Tino knew that the characters walking in the park were actually just people milling around in big goofy costumes. But hey, at twelve years old, Tino was still convinced that chocolate milk came from chocolate cows! Ahh to be young again.

But Anyway! He had asked for some advice and he had gotten it. He had asked Moominpappa—or rather a guy in a costume—If he could be anything that he wanted to be. The man in the oversized Troll costume had told him yes, he _could_ be anything that he wanted to be. Of course the man probably thought Tino wanted to be an astronaut, a fire men, a cowboy—Or Hell, an firefighting cowboy from outer space! But no, Tino had wanted to be a writer, and that simple faith in the wide eyed violet boy, that simple word 'yes' gave Tino the courage to start writing.

Soon after his enchanting experience with the stranger in the costume, his mother bought him a little Moominpappa notebook that was a bright blueberry blue color. The little Finn cherished it dearly, and, though it's still a bit embarrassing to admit, he still has it, tucked away in his little messenger bag. He would write everything in it, poems, stories, drawings—even article clippings that his dad cut out from the Finnish newspaper with scissors since Tino was still very clumsy and couldn't use the shiny tools with ease.

Tino sighed and rested his hands on his palms, his feet dragging low on the sandy and crumbling rolled stone floor at his feet. It had been so many years ago, and yet Tino remembered it exactly. He remembered the strong warm arms of the man in the costume, the grumbling voice behind the big hippo-like mouth... he even remembered giving the clothed character a thank you kiss. Tino make an humiliated pained noise deep in his throat, his face heating up. Oh _damn_ had he been so clueless as a kid! Tino bit his lip and peeled his fingers from his shielded face. He sighed and leaned back against the polished wood of the park bench, the metal bolts making his back stiff.

He sat there, in the warm Finnish summer air, hearing the chatter of lively children, the clicking of camera's and the static from freshly blown balloons jostling in the air. He smelled the barbequed special treats, the pungent and salty scent of the Salmiaki being pushed into hungry mouths, the sweet tingling smell of freshly spun cotton candy.* He sat there, absorbed in it all and just thought one thing.

_I wonder if the Moominpappa from my childhood is still here, in this very park?_

It was a stupid thought, but it left him perplexed, absorbed, and a bit, dare he say—hopeful?

Tino sighed and laughed at himself. That was over ten years ago, there was no way that the same guy was in the same costume for all those years. No way...

And yet...

Tino sat there and thought, thought his cute little head off and hoped against hope, that fate would be kind to him—just this once.

…...

Berwald's knees made a sickeningly aching sound for the fifth time that day. Bending up and down all day long for six hours at a time with only an hour break was not the best way to stay sane. At least not for the six foot eight Swedish man who had been working at the same job for ten freaking years.

Berwald growled in annoyance as his top hat that was 'supposed to be sewed on tight' kept slipping down his big ol' stupid head, blocking his already screwed vision. Man was not meant to wear a five pound troll hat on his head in ninety degree weather while doing his best to speak Finnish when his brain would always painfully and annoyingly beg him to speak Swedish.

Honestly! Everyday it was either one problem or another that seemed to always pester him. Whether it was his pipe snapping in two from a kid's spasmodically flailing arms, his tail dragging to the floor and into a mud puddle, or his gloves slipping off to show a glimpse of his real pale colored skin that made a kid cry and yell 'Mommy! It's just some dumb guy in a costume!' Oh yeah. This job was just terrific. This job was just peachy-keen. This job could bite his white Swedish ass!

Berwald sighed. Well, now he just wasn't being _entirely_ fair. He did like this job, he really did—at least, somewhere _really_ deep down he did.

It did pay well, he got Friday's, Saturday's and Sunday's off, he got to hang out with his best friend during the shift change—along with his annoying ass boyfriend, but that was another story completely, he got to work with kids—granted most of the kids were very ill mannered. But the fact that he got to go to work everyday and see bright and smiling faces, well, it made the aches and pains of the job a bite more bearable. 'A bit' being the key word...

Berwald smiled. Of course, this change of heart happened exactly ten years ago, when the poor old Swedish boy of fourteen had a very nice and sweet encounter with another boy a little bit younger than he. A day hadn't gone by that Berwald hasn't thought of that boy. The violet eyes brimming with warmth, that dove soft hair, and those cute little lips that had kissed his clothed cheek. Berwald blinked rapidly, embarrassed beyond repair.

He had tried to stop thinking of the damn kid that had asked him that simple and faithful question several odd years ago. Of course the boy was cute, but Berwald couldn't say that now. No, not unless he wanted to be labeled a pedophile for the entirety of his life—and they already had a Spanish guy working near the gift shop with that honored title because of some infatuation with the Italian sandwich shop owner...

But. But, it seemed like every time Berwald drove his beat up Volvo up to the employee parking lot, made his way begrudgingly into the changing locker rooms and shoved on that big and sweaty costume of his he always thought of one thing with bated breath.

_I wonder if the kid from my childhood will come here, to this very park?_

It was a stupid thought of course, one that weighted down on his poor overworked brain and heart... But yet he still thought of the boy every single day that he milled his way out into the Finnish amusement park of Moominland. Perhaps today would be the day that he would meet the little boy again with the violet eyes. Perhaps, after ten years there was still hope? Berwald sighed and shook his head.

No. Berwald was more than sure that wouldn't happen, that it couldn't happen. Berwald would just have to get used to the idea that he would never see the kid from his youth. The Violet eyed boy would never show his face here again. After digesting that sorrow filled reality, Berwald made his way to walk past the benches, his eyes scanning around the crowd for a violet gaze...

...

By now Tino had shuffled his hands through his small messenger bag, pulling out the special Moominpappa notebook and a crisp sharp tipped pencil, writing down little notes here and there in the margins of the small leaflet book.

Ivan wanted the introduction and the first few pages done by tomorrow, so Tino had to really work hard to make the article as good as possible, lest he wanted a metal pipe shoved up his ass. He cringed for a few seconds before he went back to his diligent scribbling, writing choppy and quick little notes about what made up the perfect man.

Tino paused to sit the notebook in his lap, his lips absently chewing on the little pink eraser of the pencil thoughtfully. What exactly, _did_ make the perfect man? That was the question worth a million bucks...

Honestly Tino didn't really know how to answer that. He guessed he would have to derive from what he himself thought of as the perfect man. Well. Let's see here.

The little Finn put the metallic point of the pencil to the weathered and dog eared paper of the notebook, tapping it dully on the soft paper. He sighed and did his best to concentrate. What would he want in a man?

_Tap tap tap..._

Tino paused in his hurried noise making to glare at his paper for a few split seconds before something came skidding into his mind like a welcomed spring waterfall.

Tall.

Yes. Someone who was tall—who could wrap their arms around his waist and haul him in his arms in a sweet embrace until morning. Oh yes. Being tall was very important. So—Tino wrote that down on the little lined paper in neat and long letters.

What next?

Tino sighed and crossed his legs lightly over each other, mindful that he was still a male and that he still lacked the complete comforts of the female body. Once he was comfortably seated, he let the tip of the pencil graze the yellowed and stiffly lined paper of the notebook.

Hmm...

Well obviously handsome would be a nice perk. Tino was not totally selfless as to observe that the perfect man would indeed have a certain... sexy charm. The kind of charm that was cute and boyish one minute, but could turn into a heated flame the next. Tino wanted a mixture of danger and mystery, but yet with a solid and good heart that shook with love. Oh dear God he was beginning to sound like Feliks!

Tino shook his head softly, trying to catch up with his quickening and racing thoughts. After a few seconds of just re-learning how to breath again, Tino brought back up the possibility of the man's 'sexy charm.'

Perhaps it wasn't just charm that the Finn wanted. Sure a man could be a sweet talker, but what he said was often lies and just false honeyed words. No, Tino wanted something to fall back on. He wanted a man that would be committed and strong in the relationship, not someone who would come into his bed one night and leave the next...No matter _how_ good in bed he was...

Tino face imitatively caught red, his cheeks heating up, glaring an angry crimson color that washed over his face with menace. The Finn quickly swallowed and did his best to calm himself down.

Sexy.

Alright, he could do sexy. But what kind of sexy? Tino paused and bit his bottom lip thoughtfully, as if he was questioning life itself. Well perhaps he should fist consider looks. He did like blondes... But not platinum blonde, but not too dark either. A nice, solid, flaxen blonde haired man, with jagged cut hair like shaven ice. Tino smiled and giggled sinisterly.

A flaxen blonde with deep and jade green eyes—no! Sea green eyes! Sea green eyes that were hazy yet sharp, like a freshly roaring ocean crashing against the shore venomously. Tino sighed. He had a weakness for a man's eyes. His Perfect man was no exception. His man's eyes had to hold a certain vibrating warmth, yet be subtly dangerous, like a caged lion that you could tame. Tino sighed in bliss once more, his chin numbly resting in his upturned palms, his eyes gazing out in front of him but not really seeing anything.

Yes, eyes were very important, they were like a portal into ones own soul, the only truthful way to show what lies inside a person. Tino sighed breathlessly like the heartfelt romantic that he was, and studied his still baffling short list. Right. Back to work.

Hot body. Tino's lips curled into a small smile that would have betrayed his lustful fantasies. But he was in Moominland dammit and he would not sully the good name of his beloved Trolls with his perverted mind! Tino shook his head a bit harder than was necessary before he quickly circled the gray printed words 'hot body' to be looked at closely later in the comfort of his own home... very closely...

Well so far he had practically gotten looks down, now all he needed to do was go home and write a few paged introduction and elaborate more on his findings and list items. This was going to be a piece of cake! Tino smiled to himself, grinning over his notebook with glee.

But then something very grim reached into the Finn's mind and he scowled suddenly. Sure, writing about the perfect man from your imagination was easy... But actually finding the man?

Tino let out a gulp of air he hadn't known he'd been keeping in. He twisted his chin deeper into the heel of his hands before sighing with defeat.

Suppose the Perfect Man didn't exist, suppose Tino was just doomed to come back to the office empty handed with no such thing. The Finn let out an exhausted breath and sat motionless on the parch bench. All around him the noise clatter of kinds sneakers squeaking over the cobbled stones and the high pitched yelling of crying toddlers robbed the air of any silence that the Finn would have liked to achieve.

He was about to go back to his maddening scribbling when out of the corner of his eye he saw the unmistakable black hat of one of his most favorite cartoon characters. Moominpappa.

…...

**Hella rushed update guys! My internet time got cut in half so I'm sorryyyyy! I hope this little chapter is good enough. Thank you especially to **Ruusu** for this chapter! REVIEWWWWW!\**

**Authors Notes: **

**-He smelled the barbequed special treats, the pungent and salty scent of the Salmiaki being pushed into hungry mouths, the sweet tingling smell of freshly spun cotton candy.***- Thank you to Ruusu for this little tidbit o Finnish culture! Barbeque, I had o clue, is really popular street food fare in Finland! Salmiaki is a licorice candy that well...tastes rather...uhhh... ughhh...


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, I haven't touched this story in ages! Sorry guys! I got so caught up with the Viking period stories I neglected the modern day ones! I beg for your forgiveness! This chapter is short, but that's because things have not been working in my favor exactly in the game of life, but I tried my best with this! Please enjoy!** I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia**—if I did, Sweden would be naked alllllll~ the time!** I also do not own the Moomins**! Thank you to my beautiful and loving Swedish/Finnish/Russian translators, **MalinChan**, **yotzie**, **Ruusu**, and **Kooliobutterflyhahaha!** Thanks so much guys! I couldn't write this stuff without you! :)**

…**...**

After going over in his mind a remembered lecture about what to do if a kid suddenly pees on you, Berwald was just about ready to throw in the towel...The pee soaked towel that he cheerfully attained when a young little Molly-Sue decided that she was so excited about seeing MoominPappa that she peed her pants. Well. Such was the life of a Moomin, a yellow stained one.

But before Berwald could once again dote on his tragic and pitiable existence, he caught, from the corner of his eye, a creature that was so beautiful, it would put an ABBA singing Angel to shame!

For, sitting down at the park bench that rested before a mound of food stalls, leaned a blonde beauty with the most rounded ass Berwald had ever seen.

Forgetting who he was for a moment-a Moomin covered in pee-pee with a big two pound black top hat on his damned head and a tail that was currently being used for jump-rope- he allowed his eyes to wander up and down that smiling beauty with the straw colored hair, sweet looking lips and generous smile. Not to mention the mans' ass. Damn did that thing look firm, like you could hang something off of it..._or put something in it_...Berwald thought lustfully before he, shocked and ashamed of himself, quickly began to hit his cloth covered head with his mitten with scolding, earning the gawking stare of children and parents alike as they watched MoominPappa hit himself with an oversized white skiing glove.

Dear God Berwald! You are in an amusement park dressed as Finland's most prized and loveable characters! Pull yourself together man! Finding that hitting his cloth head with his mittens was not the best way to seem presentable and all together sane, the Swede, taking a deep breath, decided to just maybe...perhaps...talk to the man with the pretty face and nice ass? Maybe?

Sure, why the hell not. It's not like he suddenly had a mild tent in his pants and a costume that smelled like piss—why not try to woe a potential date-It's not like he's ever been rejected or laughed at before. Berwald sighed, wishing with all his might that he could just shove this stupid costume off and take a shower and go home, turn ABBA on as loud as it would go on his shitty stereo and just drown his sorrows out to the sounds of 'Mamma Mia' and 'Waterloo'. Ahh...wouldn't that be nice...

But life's always been a bitch for Berwald and now was not one of those exceptions. Because, right now, as Berwald, tall, awkward, gawking Berwald was just standing in the middle of the cobble road, attracting the attention of toothless and grinning kids, a pair of beautiful glowing eyes were on him. Not the costume, not the piss stains, but him. Him. Him. Him.

Sitting on that bench that Berwald would love to be at that exact moment, sat Berwald's current affections, the cute and bubbly looking man whose eyes were suddenly staring at him obsessively. Damn if lust didn't have a nice ass and blue eyes.

Blue? Yeah…they looked like blue eyes… Berwald scrunched up his face as he squinted, trying to hone in on the beautiful pale skinned man that graced his range of sight.

Yep. Blue eyes, pure, lovely blue eyes-but what did it really matter the color-here was this lovely creature sent down from heaven! Now it was up to Berwald to woe said angelic God of a man.

As if on pure instinct though, and maybe a slight movement stirring in his pants, Berwald found his awkwardly tall and gangly legs nudging themselves closer to the wingless Angel in front of him. The Angel that really seemed to only have eyes for him, happy, joyful, obsessive eyes... Berwald found himself smiling softly—something that he did not do very often.

But for this moment he made a damn good exception.

And so, taking a great giant breath that filled his lungs pleasingly, he stiffened up his legs and, lifting up each foot as if it weighed twenty pounds, he began to shuffle over to the bench, watching with crystalline eyes to the beauty before him.

With each step his heart began to beat louder and louder, his blood thrashing in his body-he could feel his pulse in his mouth and he felt about three times hotter in his white plush suit as the Finnish summer sun began to bite down on him with tendrils of heat.

But it was all worth it. All worth it to see those eyes…those…those blue eyes… those lovely piercing yet loving eyes that looked more bluer than the sparkling ocean, more bluer than sky during a winter rain, more bluer than…

Wait a minute.

Berwald suddenly paused, his eyes growing wide, breath caught in his throat, neck hot and sticky from sweat, from anticipation that suddenly turned into quick spurts of adrenaline mixed with confusion.

Somewhere near him a child in a stroller cried, a balloon popped and a car horn honked-but all that was obsolete to him now.

Because, staring before Berwald, before him in undying glory and unmatched sweetness and innocence-was the boy from nine years ago. The boy with straw colored hair, sweet natural smile, and eyes…eyes that glimmered like freshly polished amethyst.

Those violet eyes that haunted him all those years, that made his days at the park worth living, that instilled the last shred of hope in his already overworked exhausted heart.

Those violet eyes, that were staring right at him.

Those violet eyes, that were made for him and only him.


End file.
